


Another Night

by MarieTurtle



Category: True Blood (TV)
Genre: AU - post series finale, But the final scene never happened, Eric rethinks staying away, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-13
Updated: 2020-09-13
Packaged: 2021-03-06 16:22:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,778
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26451802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MarieTurtle/pseuds/MarieTurtle
Summary: A few months after Bill's death, Sookie wants to believe she's moving on.Then Eric shows up at Bellefleur's.
Relationships: Eric Northman/Sookie Stackhouse
Comments: 8
Kudos: 66
Collections: Fandom Giftbox 2020





	Another Night

**Author's Note:**

  * For [CorinaLannister](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CorinaLannister/gifts).



“Hello, Miss Stackhouse.”

Sookie stiffened. She wanted, more than anything else in that moment, to be repulsed. She stopped herself from shuddering, at least, and clenched her jaw, praying to God, the angels, Gran, anyone who might be listening, for Eric to interpret her reaction as appropriately disgusted with his presence at Bellefleur’s.

She turned to the hostess stand, acutely aware of how empty the place was. Most of the town was at the harvest fair and, as usual and as the new manager, she’d volunteered to work. Their new cook, Wyatt, was in the kitchen. A couple she didn’t recognize filled one booth, working their way through their fifth sweet tea refills and sharing a basket of fries. Otherwise, she was alone.

“What do you want, Eric?”

Impatience she could channel without trouble. The salt and pepper shakers wouldn’t fill themselves, and with an hour until closing, she’d like to get everything done and be home at least a little earlier than usual.

Not that she’d sleep. Damn vampires and their damn vampire time. Would she ever get normal human hours again?

Did she want to?

One thing she might never get used to: Eric’s leonine smirk. She reckoned he’d earned that predatory look, that easy confidence, by generally being the biggest, baddest vampire around. Didn’t mean she had to like it.

Maybe the problem was she did like it. A little too much.

“I think you know what I want,” he said. When she didn’t respond, narrowing her eyes to what she hoped was a dangerous glare, he sighed dramatically. “Fine. In the absence of that, do you have any O negative? Maybe with a little dash of fairy? I do love the flavor.”

“Ew.” She curled her lip and marched behind the bar. “You know, I outta make you drink this cold.”

He leaned against the bar, mouth still cocked in that stupid little smile. “Come now, Sookie, would you really do such a thing to me?”

The jukebox kicked on randomly, and a slow song started up. The Rolling Stones, something about wild horses.

She uncapped the bottle and slid it into the microwave. One minute, 50% power warmed the drink more evenly than 30 seconds at full power. 

“I like this song,” he said. “Mick once told me he wrote it for a woman, but Keith said it was about leaving his son for the road.”

With her back still turned to him, she rolled her eyes. Vampires and their stories. Of course Eric knew Mick Jagger and Keith Richards. Of course he did.

“You know there’s a mirror behind the bar,” he said. They made eye contact in the mirror, and his smile fell away. “Will you dance with me, Miss Stackhouse?”

She turned to look him in the eye, expecting to find humor. He straightened and swept a hand toward the empty space between the bar, the pool table, and the front door.

“Oh my God, you’re serious,” she said.

He raised an eyebrow.

“Okay,” she dragged the word out. 

Stepping into his waiting arms shouldn’t have been so easy, felt so right. Tension eased out of her shoulders and neck in spite of her best efforts to hold herself apart, to not enjoy this so damn much.

“What are you even doing here?” She looked up at him, secretly revelling in how far she had to tip her head back. “Shouldn’t you be doing NuBlood stuff with Pam?”

“Hm,” he hummed and gave her a negligent shrug. “I’m free to take time off. Things are going quite well.”

“I’ve heard.” It took more power than she’d thought herself capable of resisting leaning in, resting her head on his shoulder, and inhaling his clean scent. “Don’t think I didn’t notice that you didn’t answer my question.”

His chuckle rumbled through her hands, down her arms, straight to her core. If he was just a man and she was just a woman, would she still find him so attractive? Of course she would, Eric was almost painfully good looking. With hot blood in his veins, natural color in his cheeks, he’d be unstoppable.

But no, he wouldn’t be Eric. He wouldn’t even be the memory-free version she’d so easily fallen in love with. 

“So sassy,” he said. “Maybe I found myself missing your sass.”

The alarm dinged on the microwave. Saved by the bell.

“I should-” she pulled away, ready to rabbit out of his embrace and fetch the NuBlood, but he beat her to it.

One breath, they were dancing. The next, he moved so fast her eyes didn’t capture the moment. The air blew her hair first toward the bar, then back.

Her arms were still up, one braced on his firm shoulder, the other for his hand, but he stood a foot away, sipping on the drink.

She dropped her arms.

“I could have gotten that.”

“You’re not my servant.” Sip. “Mmm, good, better than that True Blood shit, at least.”

“You’re damn right, I’m not your servant, but I am the manager now and the only person handling the front of the house tonight, so it’s my job. That’ll be $15.”

“The manager now.” His lips and tongue seemed to savor each syllable, as if he, Eric Northman, thousand-year-old vampire, Viking prince, ex-sheriff, NuBlood spokesman and part owner of the empire, might actually be impressed by a restaurant and bar manager. 

It was a big accomplishment for her, something she was proud of. No college, multiple supernatural chaos surviving, small town bayou girl that she was. She was extra proud since it had nothing to do with her fairy blood. Plus, she did away with the shorts and heels thing Sam had been so fond of. 

She liked to tell herself she no longer worried if Bill or Eric loved her or her inner fairy, but that wasn’t true. It plagued her. It drove her to seek out a life without vampires, without any supes at all.

“Yes, the manager. That means I need to account for all the bottles in this place, so you better pay up.”

He flashed a black credit card. “Anything for you, Sookie Stackhouse.”

She took the card back to the register behind the bar, shaking her head. Out of habit, she slid his check into one of the vinyl check holders with a pen and brought it back to him. 

“You are right, though.” He scrawled his signature on the receipt. “I am not here for a social call. Well, not a strictly social call.”

She shoved the signed receipt into her pocket without looking at it and returned the holder to its place near the register. “Whatever it is, I’m out of the vampire business. Find another psychic.”

“I don’t want another psychic,” he whined in his way. “Besides, we both know you’ll never be out of the vampire business, Sookie.”

Her hackles spiked up. “That’s bullshit. Just because I have fairy blood-”

“It’s not about your fairy blood,” he said. “As...delectable as it is, it’s merely the first thing we notice about you. Nothing more.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

He zoomed into her personal space before she could blink. “It means, my dear, that you are so much more than a delicious snack. And we both know you’ll never be satisfied with a human lover.”

She pushed against his chest and took a step back. “I will have you know that I’ve been seeing a very nice man who hasn’t once had some awful thought about me or anyone else.”

“And how long have you been seeing this wonderful man?” He stepped back into her space, undaunted.

“Two weeks.”

“Hm,” he nodded sagely. “A whole two weeks, you say? And I presume he knows what you are? What you can do?”

She nodded.

“Give it time. He is a human, after all.”

“So what?” She retreated again, snatching up a bar rag to give herself something to do. Anything to avoid this conversation. “Everyone has bad thoughts from time to time, me especially. Right now, for instance. Maybe I like knowing when he has one. I never knew what you and Bill were up to until it was too late.”

She turned to wipe down a clean table, but Eric was already there, between her and the table. “Maybe I resolve to never lie to you ever again.”

“Then you’d be lying to me anyway. No one can promise that.” She tried to shove around him, but he didn’t let her.

“I’m more than a thousand years old. Do you not think I know my own limits? Do you think I don’t know what I want, and what I have to do to get it?”

Another table. There had to be another table for her to clean. Anything to keep him from seeing the tears welling in her eyes. She was so stupid! Entertaining this conversation for more than a second was the height of foolishness. 

Falling for more vampire lies was at the bottom of her to-do list, even if she wanted, more than anything, to believe him.

“I’ll prove it to you,” he said with a crisp nod. “I have all the time in the world to show you.”

“Jesus, Eric, I don’t want more vampire drama in my life. I happen to enjoy not being afraid for my life, or the lives of the people I care about, for once. Can’t I just have a few months? A year without going back to all that?”

She thought of Gran. Of Tara. Of Alcide. Of Bill. Of Terry. She thought of Rene and Lilith and Russell Edgington. Too much death and danger in just a few years since first meeting Bill.

He brushed a hand down her cheek, then pulled it back, so very carefully. “I can’t promise you a life without danger. But neither can this human. I’ll show you. You’ll see what I mean.”

With that, he finally stepped back, giving her back her space.

Before pushing out the door, he called out to her, “I’ll see you around, Miss Stackhouse.”

Silence descended on Bellefleur’s once more. In its place, the low music from the kitchen drifted back over her senses. Her two remaining customers still looked content, glasses more than half full each. In truth, Eric had only been there for a few minutes, even though it felt like hours, just him and her and the Stones.

“Miss?” the woman called out. “Can we get our check?”

Back to work, then.

Whatever Eric had promised her was a problem for another day.

Maybe it was a hope for another night.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoy! I did a rewatch in March, but I haven't picked up a Sookie Stackhouse novel since circa 2009, so I hope I'm not too rusty on the voices.


End file.
